I've been feeling LOTS of guilt for not posting enough on here lately. And the ideas and topics and new spots and controversies just keep building up. But...it's hard being in so many places at one time.
Har, har. Sorry, bad joke, referring to the fact that this month, my gaping mouth and bulging biceps are plastered sort of everywhere in the city. I was invited to be the posterchild for San Sebastián, and since everyone loves donuts, my photo got featured kind of...prominently. Like, if you arrive by train or bus, I'm smiling at you 10-feet-tall prominently.
It's been such a busy season, but I suppose I asked for abundance. That could explain weekends like the one I had a few weeks ago, weekends that push you to limits that even a freaky overactive way overly enthusiastic type A but type B after 11pm kind of person has never reached. It started with co-hosting a pop-up restaurant, La Galería.
Amazing means multiple courses, eating out of a glove in the hand, a vermouth laboratory, and blind wine pairings. So yeah, you can see me looking—er—focused below, Sandro cool as a cucumber as he plates 65 mini lobster pear amuse bouches. That I didn't even get to try, thanks to my manic-ness.
Then, back up early the morning after to film recipes all day and into the night.
A local supermarket chain contacted me to create and film several recipes for them. Which is awesome! Turns out it is awesome even at two in the morning. Just ask the amazing production crew. Videos coming soon....stay tuned.
Then, with just a few hours of sleep it was time to do a vermuteke! These little fetes that we organize at The International Society for the Preservation and Enjoyment of Vermut always have a different location and a different character. This little fete took place at the Tabakalera, San Sebastián's glorious new culture center, and about 350 people dropped down on us poor vermouth servants.
So it was a mad dash, serving dips and Dos Deus vermouth while dancing to DJs. (Yes, I know what I just did there.)
It's an amazing feeling, to stop, look out over a sea of people with your armpits sweating and a kilo of olives in hand, and realize that two years of promoting vermouth is what it takes to make a lot of people dance on a Sunday morning.